Swirling

Does a tree ever wonder whether it’s good enough? ?Does it doubt the nurture of the soil beneath it or question its purpose: to grow and to thrive? ?Does it compare the quality of its photosynthesis to nearby trees and shrink backwards in fear?

Some days, it can feel like we spend an eternity swirling inside our own mind, falling from pit to pit, swallowed by the rapids of self-sabotage. ?All we can muster on those days is a faint comfort in the consistency of our shallow breath and a dropperful of compassion while we’re being swayed into caves that were once a dwelling place in the younger, socially confused years.

Consider the possibility that this mental ramble of self-effacement is not ours. ?That it, instead, belongs to a collective spirit of oppression that is exactly why it took so long for women to vote and a black man to be president. ?It’s as if, somehow, the radio of the mind simply gets stuck on the frequency of American Debauchery.

It is miraculous to step into the wisdom of not identifying with our thoughts and not believing everything we think. ?And yet, even while holding this deeper perspective, it still feels like the voice of self-doubt is?inhabiting us,?inside our body, like a virus attached to the host cells of our free mind.

How do we endure the suffering of stormy inner weather?

Mystic Persian poet Rumi writes that this human life is a guest house, frequented by a full array of visitors, ranging from the heights of joy to the depths of sorrow.

Self-criticism is like a grumpy old uncle that walks in uninvited and stays well past his welcome. ?Or sometimes, it’s simply the voice of our parents.

Unpleasant as it may be, this self-critical uncle is our family–our elder and kin–and we must pay our respects and meet him with teeth-gritting, ego-crumbling honor. ?As long as we can remember he’s just a visitor, we can feed him our finest desserts and be entertained by his intricate stories. ?We can meet him at the door laughing.

That laughter in the midst of the storm of self-criticism is sourced from our connection to truth. ?Our connection to our deeper purpose that is greater than ourselves. ?When we’re connected to that place in us–our passion for justice, our dedication to global community, our love for the Earth itself–we can step out of the way and recognize that it doesn’t even matter how our bodies look or how adequate we?think?we are. ?One way or another, life is going to be lived through us, regardless of our perceived imperfections, idiosyncrasies, or misfortunes…

“Even a cracked cup can be used to serve the best champagne.”~Arjuna Ardagh,?The Last Laugh

The marks on our face, distorted judgments about our bodies, heartbreak, feelings of “I am not enough”–all of our cracks–have no chance of standing in the way of truth. ?The qualifications for living in greatness and serving love are not what we think.

Every action you take in alignment with deeper truth?is your diploma. ?If you are breathing (and even if you are not), you are qualified to serve the greater law of nature, of love, of truth. ?All the voices in your head can come along on the ride–they are simply passengers.